


Escape

by jive



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Bondage, F/M, Femdom, Pegging, Sex Toys, Shibari, Sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 12:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17447411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jive/pseuds/jive
Summary: Reinhardt seeks escape in the form of discipline and complete surrender of his own self, and Ana is always more than willing to provide Reinhardt with what he needs.





	Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Originally done as a fill for [a prompt over at the overwatch events kink meme](https://overwatchevents.dreamwidth.org/3216.html?thread=2448). This version is what's left after giving it a bit of a polish.

Reinhardt could break free if he wanted to - just a simple flex of his battle-hardened muscles, and he could easily tear the bindings around his chest and arms as they snap from the sheer amount of tension alone - but Ana is more than well aware of the fact that what Reinhardt desires the most at the moment is nothing even remotely close to freedom. 

Not in the physical sense, anyway.

He yearns for a distraction, a departure, an escape.

He seeks escape in the form of pleasure and discomfort; in the form of passion and denial; in the form of restraints and helplessness. 

Reinhardt seeks escape in the form of discipline and complete surrender of his own self, and Ana is always more than willing to provide Reinhardt with what he needs.

“Look at you, dearest,” she coos, rubbing the reddened left cheek of Reinhardt’s bared ass with one hand as the other curls around his throbbing cock. It’s heavy and hot between his thighs, swollen and thick and utterly soaked at the tip. The sheer amount of precum that leaks out of it, despite the presence of a sound plugging up the hole of his slit, is almost awe-inspiring. “Just a few swats and you’re already dripping like a broken faucet?”

Reinhardt lets out a whining keen, biting his lip and burying his face into the pillow as Ana’s fingers play with the metal rod. They tug it out ever so slightly, only to push it back up into his cock and force out even more fluid to leak out from around it. The movements send confusing jolts of pleasure and discomfort up Reinhardt's spine. His body curls from the sensation. He squirms - as much as one can squirm while on their knees with their arms tied behind their back and their chest pressed against the sheets - and his hips twitch, as if torn between the desire to seek out more of that delicious torture coming from within his cock’s core or the desire to retreat and hide from the discomfort and pressure.

“P-Please,” he huffs, voice breaking off into delirious moans as Ana continues, “Please, mistress. I b-beg of you- I need- ah!” His thighs shake beneath him, trembles of pleasure wracking his body, and eager anticipation crippling his ability to stay sane and coherent.

“I know what you need, my darling,” Ana answers his incomplete plea, “I'll give it to you in just a moment. Be a good boy. Have patience.” 

There's a moment of silence that lingers in the air as Ana moves to fetch her usual tools, when all Reinhardt can hear is the whisper of fabric moving, and the air moving in his lungs. The hush in the room is only broken by the sharp click of a bottle opening and a loud prolonged squelch of lubricant being squeezed out. Though Ana could pour the cold liquid directly onto Reinhardt’s overheated flesh if she so wished to - Reinhardt wouldn't let out a single protest at the treatment regardless of how startling it would feel - she never does. 

It's needlessly cruel, she thinks, and Reinhardt is undeserving of such treatment. 

She lets the liquid warm from her body heat, coating her fingertips in the slick substance to bring it up to a proper temperature, and Reinhardt sighs thankfully when she pushes a finger inside of him.

“Gott…” he moans, eyelids falling half-closed when Ana quickly inserts a second digit inside him without a beat of rest. The fingers push in and out of him, fucking his pliant hole briefly before a third joins them. They scissor this way and that as they sink in and out of him, lewd, wet noises echoing each movement.

It would be wonderful if Reinhardt actually felt anything more than a mild intrusion from it. Though his master's fingers are wonderful to have inside of him, their size pale in comparison to his own, and that fact is more than well-conveyed with the way his rim clenches needily around Ana's digits. She spreads her fingers wide, stretching Reinhardt’s entrance to make room, and he makes a small noise of acknowledgement before Ana sinks her pinky into his hole as well. Even with four fingers inside of him, Ana continues her preparations. She pushes in and out, milking small noises of pleasure out of Reinhardt’s throat all the while.

Before long, Ana has her entire fist inside of him, fucking her arm in and out of Reinhardt's body, and delighting in the way his body clenches so needily around her wrist and forearm. She nudges against his prostate, and Reinhardt lets out a whining moan at that. With Ana's arm inside of him, he’s finally able to feel some semblance of a stretch at his entrance, but the both of them know it's still not enough, not nearly, nowhere close. Reinhardt's needs take more than just Ana’s slender hand and arm to thoroughly satisfy, and at that, Ana removes herself from his body.

“I know, I know,” she coos, rubbing at the puffed rim of Reinhardt's hole with her hand. Her fingers spread even more slick onto the clenching muscle, and Reinhardt can’t help but whine at the teasing pressure. “We're almost there, I promise. Just a little bit more.” The bottle opens again, and Ana dumps even more lubricant into her palm, letting the liquid warm up once again. Reinhardt shifts and squirms in place, unable to keep himself still as anticipation takes such intense hold of his nerves that he's nearly vibrating in his own skin from it. 

He hears it more than he sees it, the loud, slippery, wet noises of Ana coating their usual dildo - a giant, glittering, blue-and-silver, silicone phallus locked in place at the front of her harness - thoroughly with lubricant, and he whines once again in desperate need, teeth grinding as his hole clenches and throbs for attention. He hears the tell-tale shuffling of fabric that always accompanies something being wiped up, quickly followed by the hum that Ana always lets out when she's satisfied with something, and Reinhardt fights the urge to spread his knees wider and make himself even more open to his master.

He sucks a deep breath between his teeth as he feels the bed shift between his calves, and firm hands take hold of his hips once again. His body tenses beneath Ana’s touch. His gut churns with excitement. And when Ana’s fingers dance down, down, down, to the bottom of his asscheeks, thumbs slipping in between his cleft as fingers grip the ample flesh of his buttocks, and Reinhardt’s ass is spread even wider, his cock pulses out another blurt of precum, throbbing and twitching between his thighs. He bites his lip, hard enough to break the skin, and moans needily as Ana’s hands spread him wide open.

A firm, familiar bluntness presses against his slicked entrance, and Reinhardt moans needily as it pushes forward into him. The imposing pressure of the toy's fat head - even bigger and thicker than Ana's fist  - punches the wind out of his lungs as it breaches him, and Reinhardt can barely register his own shaking moans and sobs as the rest of the toy begins to sink further and further inside of him, urged on by Ana's efforts. 

The toy is about a quarter of the way in when Reinhardt wheezes at the stretch, and he lets out one long, strangled moan at the way it makes his entrance clench around the unforgiving silicone and his cock twitch between his thighs. His length throbs and pulses as more and more pulses of precum well up from within, so strong that it forces out the thick sound that had been occupying its core so thoroughly.

Ana's hips slow in their efforts, and they come to a halt completely to give Reinhardt time to recover when she notices the way his body shakes and ripples and tenses so tightly against his bindings from his efforts to keep still. After a few moments’ pause, Reinhardt manages to breathe out the words, “Green, green,” and once Ana’s hands find purchase on Reinhardt’s hips again, she continues her movements.

Gently, gently, ever so gently, Ana presses her hips forward, biting her own lip in delight as she sees and feels the rippling muscles of Reinhardt’s sweat-soaked back flex beneath her. She takes hold of the red rope that traverses down the center of Reinhardt’s back, giving her the leverage needed to sink her silicon cock all the way in to the hilt as she pulls herself ever closer. 

“Deep breaths, my sweet,” she hums, running her other hand up and down Reinhardt’s flank. She can feel him trembling beneath him; chest rising and falling rapidly as the pleasure of being penetrated after such a long time of waiting and preparation begins to overwhelm him. “You're doing so well. Almost there. Just a little more until you've taken all of it.”

The artificial cock sinks to about half-way inside of Reinhardt's body before he’s able to actually relax. Her soothing touch and encouragements eases the tension from his frazzled nerves. His lungs fill with several deep breaths per her instructions - though hitched and stuttered on the intake - and coaxed by her gentle but firm hand on his skin, they empty slowly like a deflating balloon. 

Barely a moment passes before the final hiss of air leaves his lips that Ana's hips snap forward, firmly seat themselves against Reinhardt’s firm backside, and knocking out the final remnants of air from his lungs. His body jolts against her hips in shock, and Ana can almost feel how intensely his body tightens around the imposing mass inside of him. 

“Well done. Such a good boy,” she coos. The hand at Reinhardt’s flank rubs in several wider circles as Ana leans forward to press a kiss against his back. He pants heavily, gasping for breath as his body shakes in the paralyzing grip of pleasure that overtakes him. The fullness he feels is immeasurable, pressure from the toy so deep and commanding of his attention from inside of him so intense that Reinhardt can't even think of anything else. He barely registers Ana's words echoing in his ear, his heart beating so quickly and intensely that his own pulse drowns out everything else, even his own needy, hiccuping moans.

Ana pulls her hips back ever so slightly, and Reinhardt cries out in shock. Not from pain nor discomfort, but from the utter sensation of that simple movement forcing the fat imposing head of the heavy impossibly-thick cock rubbing against his walls and inching so close to his over-sensitive prostate.

“M-Mas-... plea-… Need-” he sputters, barely able to maintain coherency long enough to string sounds together into actual words.

He doesn't need to say anything more, of course, as Ana knows exactly what he’s asking for, as she always does. Her hips begin to rock just like his body desperately needs.

In and out.

In and out.

Ana begins slow and gentle at first, movements almost teasing to the point where Reinhardt can just feel his nerves fraying like a live, open wire being stripped more and more bare with each slow pull outward. He moans and writhes and twitches beneath Ana's hips, until the intensity of her movements have the entire bed all but frantically knocking against the wall.

Reinhardt is nearly sobbing by the time Ana is finally done with him, adjusting the oppressive movement of her hips so the head of the dildo is all but nudging against the part of Reinhardt that craves attention and pressure the most. He babbles and pleads incoherently at her, and with one final act of mercy, Ana rams herself into his nearly-broken body, ramming the toy directly into Reinhardt’s prostate and utterly shattering what little remains of his control over himself.

With one wordless cry against the sheets, the world disappears for Reinhardt in blinding white.

When he awakens, it's with his head resting in Ana's lap, one of her hands carding through his thick hair, and gently petting his sweat-damp scalp while the other rubs at his chest.

“How are you feeling, dearest?” she asks, smiling gently down at him. She moves to fetch the glass of water from the nightstand, clearly aware of how wrecked his voice must feel. 

Reinhardt accepts it gratefully, drinking through the straw she had placed within it, and quenching his parched throat. When he's finished, he offers her a smile of his own, peaceful and clearly satiated.

“Never better,” he answers, “Thank you.”


End file.
